An Ode to Kibble

I often spend my days dreaming of kibble.
Sometimes I do so while watching the birds,
The very thought of it makes me wiggle.
I’ll try to tell you about it with words.

I love it more than a trip through the tunnel,
But not as much as a warm winter snuggle.
I wish I could eat it all with a funnel,
But only if the feast ended with a cuddle.

I sometimes worry the kibble will not flow,
Or perhaps a squirrel will steal it from me.
Perhaps I will miss it being too slow,
Or they will forget it, drinking their tea

I hear something now; could it be time?
I want some kibble now, maybe with lime!

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